#charles taine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mcondance · 2 years ago

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maannnn i love a good/shy girl and bad boy trope but that could just be my corruption kink talking…like you can’t tell me fontaine wouldn’t be absolutely obsessed

fontaine would be absolutely obsessed.

he first spots you hanging around with yo-yo, this after they all moved down to memphis, and he’s hooked. you heard about what they did back in the glen and though you’re amazed, you’re also kinda scared cause. . this nigga used to be a drug dealer and he still got them aggressive nigga tendencies 😭😭

so one day bout a week or two after he sees you he tells yo-yo and charles that he wanna get to know you. yo-yo’s face immediately scrunches up.

“her? nah, taine.”

“what you mean nah?”

“she kinda. . you kinda rough around the edges, nigga. you might scare her. she come from a good family. ion want her involved in our shit.” yo-yo laughs, shrugging fontaine’s interest in you off. she thinks her words will turn fontaine off.

but charles smiles from across the room at fontaine as yo-yo goes back to studying, cause slick knows fontaine ain’t giving up.

and he doesn’t. yo-yo should have known better than to invite you over and then not be there when you get to the house. when charles sees you outside he disappears into his room, tells fontaine “taine! that girl you was presssin’ yo-yo bout out there!”

fontaine immediately sets his blunt down and checks his face in the mirror, fixes his chain so it hangs just right and makes his way to the living room to open the door and welcome you in.

“yo-yo ain’ here right now,” he calls over his shoulder, and you peep the gold grills sittin' pretty between his even prettier lips. he plops down on the couch, spreads his legs in a way that has you wondering just when yo-yo was gon tell you about her fine ass friend.

“that’s fine. i’ll jus’ wait out here.”

“aight. you smoke?”

“yeah.”

“stay right here.”

you watch him walk away, watch his thighs in his lil hoochie daddy shorts, watch his walk that draws you in just a little more than already are, watch him gaze back at you one more time before he disappears into his room, something you definitely did not hallucinate.

tearing your eyes away from the space that he occupied before he made his way into his room, you sink back into the couch and take a breath. you cannot be doing this shit. that’s yo-yo’s homeboy. her fine ass, pretty ass homeboy, who offered you a blunt within 30 seconds of knowing you, who’s dick is definitely big, who yo-yo will just have to understand that you want, who’s coming back out of his room with the blunt and handing it to you to puff first.

fontaine sits closer this time, and chills settle all over your body. even with the weed spreading through you, you’re still a little nervous. shy, even, cause you can feel his eyes roaming your body, glued to the exposed skin of your thighs and the gloss on your lips, your hair and your bracelets— you can feel his eyes on you.

“how long you known yo-yo?” fontaine speaks first, passing you the blunt back.

“‘bout a week after y’all came down here. we met a’work.”

“mhm. you seen what we did?”

“yeah. shit was cool as fuck. y’all doin’ that here?”

“maybe. we think we found som’thin like back in the glen. we’on’t know yet.”

“yo-yo told me how y’all saved her, she said you was ready to fuck them up when she got snatched.” you laugh, eyes damn-near big red hearts as you gaze with heavy eyes at fontaine.

“i was. i care ‘bout her,” he shrugs, handing the blunt back to you.

“‘s sweet.” your tongue is heavy now, and fontaine’s a little close, and you know you shouldn’t want to kiss a man like fontaine but you really do want to.

shit.

the blunt’s halfway between your hand and fontaine’s when yo-yo busts through the door yelling “fontaine, nigga i swear to god you better not be in here tryna seduce my girl.” her eyes settle on you, and fontaine, and the blunt, and the smoke in the air and— “goddamnit motherfucker, i told you leave her alone.”

“ian doin’ shit yo-yo. jus’ talking.” he smiles snarkily, golds sparkling, cause everybody in the damn house knows he’s not just talking.

“she right fontaine,” you speak up, though in the front of your mind you wanna give him a chance. but he’s. . different. and you’re nervous. you don’t know if you can fit in with him.

fontaine’s silent. two sets of eyes fall on him.

“‘s whatever.” fontaine gets up, says goodbye and then he’s disappearing into his room.

“you knew fontaine wanted me?”

“yeah. but, you know, that’s fontaine. and you’re you. ion know if you can keep up with him.”

you leave it at that. it’s whatever.

xxx

. . well, it’s not whatever. cause why the fuck is fontaine’s mint green pontiac pulling up beside you on your walk home from work.

“what a gentleman,” you joke.

“had to make up for stormin’ off las’ week. i got you some shit.”

“you’on have to make nothin’ up. yo-yo right. we different.”

“and what that mean? that we can’t get to know each other?”

“gon’ on fontaine. you know what yo-yo said.”

“fuck what yo-yo said.”

you’re silent. thinking. contemplating. do you really wanna fuck with this nigga? you don’t know.

“whatever.” you scoff, though you don’t speed up and you don’t want him to drive off.

“jus’ lemme take you home.” you raise your eyebrows and tilt your head at the implications of his words. “your home.” he clarifies, and all it takes is a sigh and a “home. and that’s it.” from you and he’s hopping out of his car opening the door for you.

the ride to your house is fun. between fontaine’s goated ass playlist and the not-so-small talk y’all make, it’s a dream. fontaine’s not that bad at all. he’s a big-ass softie, but he will fuck someone up if they fuck with something he love.

and you’re not that shy when you’re comfortable, not all nervous when you don’t feel you have a reason to be.

when fontaine drops you off at your house, the air in his car hangs heavy with the unanswered question.

“lemme think about it ‘taine.” you speak before he does.

“okay. i think you cool for real. hope you gimme a chance.” he grabs the bag of snacks he bought you and hops out of the car and walks around the front, opens the door for you and walks you to your front door.

“thank you for the ride fontaine,” you smile at him. you don’t know why, but you grip his face and lean forward, and he’s meeting you in the middle and shit, you’re kissing him and he’s kissing you and your bags of snacks is on the ground, and fuck what yo-yo says cause goddamn his lips feel good on yours.

you both pull away. it’s quiet.

“imma take that as a yes.”

xxx

“thought you was shy.”

you wish you could hit this nigga in his mouth, but you’re currently between his legs with his dick down your throat, swallowing and gagging and looking up at him with teary eyes, your makeup running down your face.

“you ain’t fuckin’ shy. you nasty.”

you are. you’re nasty when you let him cum down your throat, and you’re nasty when you grind on his face, huffing out breathless laughs at the way he eats you out like he needs your taste to fucking breathe.

“taste so fuckin’ good, got a nigga goin’ crazy.”

you’re nasty when you turn around and prop yourself up on your hands and knees, slurring fontaine’s name while he digs so deep in your guts you see fucking stars.

“tried to hold out on me, give me all that shy shit, but you fuckin’ me like this now. i wan’t even tryna hear allat.”

and you are fucking him, good at that.

“knew from the second i seen yo ass. .” he trails off, too focused on watching where you hold yourself on display for his hungry eyes, on where he disappears into you, on the white ring that appears on his dick every time he pulls out just to sink right back in. you don’t speak, too caught up in how good he feels and how he makes you feel secure enough to take what you want.

and you are nasty. it’s only been a week since he drove you home.

xxx

y’all don’t tell yo-yo nor charles, but when yo-yo gets home and you and fontaine are a draped over each other on the couch and charles just smiles when she asks if anything happened, she knows. ain’t shit she can do, though, but shoot fontaine a death stare, one that tells him not to fuck you up. he nods, and she can tell he’s sincere.

#₊˚. ☆ yours truly 💌:#😇#fontaine x reader #fontaine x black reader #fontaine smut

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wakandas-vibranium · 2 years ago

Text

Double ‘Taine || Part One

Pairing: Fontaine x Black Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, use of the n word, aave use etc.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: This is going to be a fun lil series! Not sure how many chapters just yet, but I hope y’all enjoy the story. Please comment, like, and reblog! :)

It was a gorgeous Memphis night. The weather was perfect and your life was going pretty well. You didn't have too many complaints. The aroma of apples and pumpkin always wafted through the air of your apartment around this time of year. Mrs. Towner, who lives two units down the hall from you, was always the culprit. Her grandson lived with her and loved baked goods and Halloween. You couldn't blame him; Halloween was one of your favorite holidays too, and it was only four weeks away. It was simply something about the smell of pumpkin and the crunch of fallen leaves under your boots that made your heart warm and made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

You were currently in your luxury apartment, venturing back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, setting the table for four. While you were busy setting up the apartment for your guests, your boyfriend, Fontaine, was out picking up dinner. You usually cooked, but Slick suggested earlier this week that he was craving Indian food, and you hadn't had it in a long time, so you ordered it and sent Fontaine to pick it up from the best spot downtown. Thursdays turned into dinner dates with Yo-Yo and Slick Charles.

You met Yo-Yo about four years ago. She strutted straight into your law firm, carrying the brightest smile and one of the sharpest minds you'd ever seen. You two hit it off right away. You supported her with everything she needed, and she is now a paralegal with your firm.

About six months in, she finally introduced you to her eccentric boyfriend, Slick Charles, who never failed to make you bust out laughing, and her other roommate, Fontaine, who you instantly took a fancy to. Your firm had become quite busy, and Yo-Yo stressed to you that Fontaine was going through a difficult time, so it took another half a year before the two of you started dating. Now you were in the best relationship you'd ever been in, and you couldn't be happier.

Sure, Fontaine kept a lot of things bottled up, and it was like pulling teeth to get him to talk about them, but you wouldn't trade him for anything. You loved that man.

Actually, you had the impression that all three of them were hiding some information from you. You didn't know much about their past because they didn't tell you much. They told you that they had moved to Memphis from the Glen and that they had no plans of returning home. That was pretty much it.

You had an inkling there was a lot more to the story, but you never pushed that button. If they wanted you to know, you would know.

As soon as you had the apartment set up to your liking, you poured yourself a glass of Stella Rosa's Moscato D’Asti and relaxed on the couch, waiting for your beloved to return.

The door knob was twisted twice before there was a heavy knock on the door. You hurriedly downed the rest of your wine and dashed over to the entrance, figuring Fontaine could use help opening the door since he had the food in his hands.

“Hey baby,” you greeted as you opened the door and saw that he didn’t have the food, but instead two large bags and a backpack. “Did you forget your keys?”

He didn't answer you; instead, he gave you a pointed look and strolled into the apartment. You scratched your forehead because you didn't know what the fuck was going on. You could've sworn he left 20 minutes ago with different clothes on….and why didn't he have the food?

He lingered in the living room, glancing around the apartment as if it were his first time seeing it. You shut the door and took timid steps toward him. Your eyes widened as you tried, but failed, not to gawk at him. When did he have time to change?

After what appeared to be him assessing the room, his gaze finally settled on you, and he looked you up and down.

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

You scoffed as you threw up your hands,“You were supposed to go get the food…”

“…Oh…” he said, tone revealing that he didn’t give a single fuck about dinner.

“Yeah, oh,” you rolled your eyes at him and he just shrugged his shoulders at you.

What the fuck was his problem?

He stood there with his back against the wall. In a defensive position. As if he knew shit was about to hit the fan. Bags still in his hands, and an orange backpack still on his back.

“Fontaine, is everything alright?” you asked, taking a cautious step towards him.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

He gave you another pointed look and you raised your hands.

“It’s just…you’re acting weird and you look pissed the fuck off right now, babe. Please tell me what’s going on?”

He uncrossed his arms and started to speak, but the jingle of keys and the opening of the front door stopped you both in your tracks.

In walked Fontaine with dinner in his hands.

WHAT IN THE ENTIRE FUCK?

Fontaine took one look at the both of you before slamming the door shut and fixing you with a chilling look.

“Baby, back away from him.”

“Man, I ain’t gon’ hurt her.” Fontaine number two huffed, rolling his eyes at Fontaine number one.

You took a cautious step back anyway. The tone of your boyfriend’s voice was more than enough to have you on edge.

Your boyfriend placed the food on the dining room table and shoved you behind him as he faced the other Fontaine.

Or at least that’s who he looked like…

Who was this guy? And why did he look just like your man? You thought you were seeing double.

The apartment was deafeningly silent. Those two didn't utter a single word as they sized each other up.

Those two may have been comfortable standing there in silence, but you weren't. You wanted to know just what in the fuck was going on.

“Umm,” you blurted, breaking the silence, “I thought you said your brother was dead? And that he was younger than you?”

You thought that maybe the other man was his twin or something. Obviously they had to be related.

“He is,” your boyfriend replied, taking his eyes off of the other man for a brief moment to glance back at you.

“Then who the fuck is this?” you pressed, gesturing wildly at the Fontaine lookalike.

“Nobody.”

“Nigga, I’m you,” Fontaine number two said.

“I ain’t tryna hear that.”

“Well, you gon’ hear it tonight, nigga.”

They went back and forth with each other, bickering for what felt like an eternity until you couldn't take it anymore.

“Fontaine!”

They both turned to look at you.

“Somebody better open they fuckin’ mouth right now and start explainin’ before I start swingin!!” you threatened.

While your boyfriend heaved a sigh of aggravation, the Fontaine lookalike smirked at you with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Where that nigga Slick at?” The lookalike asked, ignoring you.

“You came all the way to Memphis for Slick?” Fontaine questioned, tone heavy with irritation.

“That nigga knocked me out and duck taped me to a fuckin’ chair!”

What the fuck? Why would Slick do something like that?

“Yeah, for a reason.”

And your boyfriend knew about this shit all along? What else was he keeping from you?

“I got somethin’ for his ass!”

“Wait a minute—why would Slick tape you to a chair?” you asked the lookalike, taking a step closer to him.

“Ask yo boyfriend,” he quipped.

“I will, but first tell me who you are,” you demanded, staring him right in his face. His hair, his deep brown eyes, the golds in his mouth was all too familiar. This man was the spitting image of your boyfriend.

But how?

“I’m Fontaine,” he finally said, looking you in the eyes, silently daring you to disagree with him.

“That’s impossible,” you chuckled nervously as you backed away from him because clearly he was out of his mind, “There can’t be two Fontaines.”

“Baby,” your boyfriend sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose, “He’s tellin’ the truth.”

“We’re both clones,” the lookalike admitted.

Your boyfriend's shoulders stiffened so much that you worried they'd become stuck.

You were about to accuse them both of fucking with you, but the pained look on their faces was enough to convince you that they were being serious.

You plopped down on the couch, head in your hands, trying to make sense of what was being said, but your chest felt tight and you couldn't quite catch your breath.

So…clones were real.

Your boyfriend was a clone and your boyfriend also had a clone.

So there were two Fontaines.

Were there more than two Fontaines?

Who did this to them?

With each passing second, a new question flooded your thoughts.

What happened to the original Fontaine?

Who else was the government cloning?

What other states and cities were they operating from?

Was Fontaine safe?

Were you safe?

Shit really hit the fan once Yo-Yo and Slick arrived.

You had to confiscate Fontaine number two's gun after he pulled it out on Slick twice. Then you had to hold him back because he charged the retired pimp with such ferocity. Your boyfriend definitely had his temperamental ways, but this Fontaine was a bit more volatile.

Thankfully, Yo-Yo was there because Fontaine number one and Slick Charles were useless. They didn’t even try to help diffuse the situation.

After a half-hour of squabbling, everyone calmed down and sat down to eat dinner.

“So, y’all niggas couldn’t have included me on the plan?” Fontaine number two asked the others at the table.

You sat between both Fontaines, gulping your wine as you willed yourself not to freak out anymore than necessary. Yo-Yo and Slick Charles sat across from you.

“Hell no! We ain’t have time to break it down for your hotheaded ass,” Slick Charles said.

Fontaine number two shot Slick Charles with such a hard glare that you worried you'd have to hold him back again.

“Uh, I’mma just eat my samosa before Fontaine number two beats my mothafuckin’ ass,” Slick Charles grumbled before shoving his mouth with more food.

You nodded, “I think that’s a good idea, Slick.”

“How’d you find us anyway?” Yo-Yo asked.

“Biddy.”

“Biddy?!” The three of them murmured.

You couldn’t do anything but eat your food and drink your wine as you watched the four of them converse. You felt like a stranger in your own fucking home.

“I gave that pink bitch a hundred bucks and she told me y’all moved to Memphis.”

You didn’t even bother to ask who Biddy was because you knew you wouldn’t get a straight answer. The rest of the evening went pretty much like that. As the four of them caught up, you tried to make sense of the information at your disposal. You eventually tuned them out because you were becoming irritated.

After a while, Fontaine number two asked where the bathroom was, and you got up to show him the way.

Surprisingly, he thanked you before closing the bathroom door, and you retreated to the kitchen, searching for more wine. You needed more booze to deal with this fucked-up situation, and unfortunately, the wine you already had just wasn't cutting it. You scoured the refrigerator and cabinets but came up empty.

With a heavy sigh, you leaned against the kitchen island and went over the events of the last hour or so. You still found it difficult to comprehend the gobsmacking fact that the love of your life was a clone.

It all made sense now why your boyfriend was so guarded. Look at all the shit he’s been through. Still, you couldn't help but feel a heavy pang of hurt because the three of them kept this from you. They were the closest people to you. You've grown to love them so much, and they couldn't even bring you into the loop.

You strolled back into the dining room and observed the three of them crowded together, talking in hushed voices.

Slick Charles spotted you approaching and motioned for the other two to stop chatting.

“And just what are y’all over there whisperin’ about?” you asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing important, baby.”

“Just discussin’ the weather.”

The three of them lied through their teeth and went back to eating as if they just weren't having a private conversation. It took all your might not to lash out at them in frustration. At the very least, Yo-Yo looked guilty. You knew she wanted to tell you more, but her loyalty to Fontaine surpassed her loyalty to you.

“Right,” you scoffed at them as you grabbed your purse off the counter. “I’ll be back.”

“Where you goin’, Y/N?” your boyfriend asked as he stood up.

“To the liquor store,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Mind if I slide with you?” Fontaine number two asked as he ambled down the hallway.

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Nah,” Fontaine number one shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Well, I’m goin’ anyway, nigga.” Fontaine number two retorted as he stood next to you.

You shot your partner a sidelong glance before turning around and heading outside. Fontaine number two was right behind you.

“Y/N,” Slick Charles called after you. “Bring me back some vodka and orange juice please!”

Fontaine number two slammed the door shut before you had a chance to respond, and you fought back a chuckle. That dude was obsessed with orange juice.

Together with your boyfriend's carbon copy, you made your way silently to the parking garage.

“Oh shit,” he exclaimed as he watched you open the car door to your silver Genesis. “You drive a G90?!”

“Yes,” you chuckled as he gawked at your car, his brown eyes briefly flashing with childlike admiration. Just like your Fontaine when he first saw it. The man truly did love his cars. It only made sense that his doppelgänger would too.

“This is a nice ass ride,” he complimented, caressing the car door with his fingers as he walked around the vehicle.

“You wanna drive?”

“You for real?”

“Yeah, the other you drives it all the time.”

You tossed him the keys before walking over to the passenger side and hopping in.

He excitedly clambered into the car, gently closing the door, before cranking up and taking the opportunity to look around.

After marveling at and feeling the smooth cream interior for several seconds, his gaze ultimately settled on you.

You paid close attention to his features. He may have been a clone, but now that you were actually looking at him, you could tell he wasn't your boyfriend.

Your Fontaine always looked at you as if he knew you inside and out, which he did, but this Fontaine solely looked at you as if he wanted to have a chance to get to know you that well. Everything else about the two was remarkably identical. This was a peculiar yet intriguing situation.

You were going to ask him what he was staring at when he blurted, “Y’all fucked in here yet?”

“Fontaine!” you gasped, whacking his arm in admonishment.

You couldn't believe he would ask you something like that, but then again, your Fontaine wasn't one to shy away from asking questions. No matter how invasive they were.

“What? I know me, aight? Ain’t no way in hell I’d pass up fuckin’ my fine ass girlfriend in this sweet ass car.”

The compliment was not lost on you, but you chose not to react to it.

You remained silent, blinking at him in disbelief, until he raised his eyebrows impatiently, still waiting for you to answer.

“Yes, nigga,” you muttered, “we’ve fucked in here before.”

“How many times?”

“Why do you care?”

He said nothing, just stared at you with an amused expression.

“Four times, damn! Can we go now?”

For a split second, his eyes darkened with a burning desire. He didn't say anything, but it was clear he wanted to be the one to partake in a fifth time.

Under his piercing gaze, you squirmed in your seat. You knew that was a thought you wouldn’t be able to come back from, so you cleared your throat and turned to stare out the window.

You heard him let out a puff of amusement before he put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot.

“What type of shit you do for work?” he asked once y’all were out on the open road and out of the parking garage.

“I’m a lawyer,” you said proudly before pointing to the upcoming street. “Make a left at the next light.”

“What kind of lawyer?” he questioned as he turned left.

“Corporate.”

“Mmm, smart and pretty.”

And that's pretty much how the trip to and from the liquor store went. You two getting to know each other. Surprisingly, the lookalike was easy to talk to. He reminded you too much of your man. You were going to start getting whiplash. You didn't ask him about his life back in the Glen. You wanted your boyfriend to trust you with that information.

You both walked back into the apartment carrying bags of booze. Fontaine number one, Yo-Yo, and Slick Charles were still conversing at the dinner table.

As a peace offering, Fontaine number two handed Slick Charles his vodka and orange juice. At least he was trying, you thought.

You five settled on the couch with your drinks and watched the first two Bad Boys flicks. Yo-Yo fell asleep against Slick Charles halfway through the second film.

You were once again seated between your boyfriend and his duplicate. Your feet eventually wound across your man's lap, and he rubbed soothing circles into your ankles.

After twenty minutes, Yo-Yo began to snore, so Slick decided to call it a night, waking her up and helping her to her feet. They were really sweet to each other when they wanted to be.

"Baby, I'mma walk them out," your boyfriend stated as he pecked your lips before strolling to the front door. "I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder before shutting the door, leaving you alone with Fontaine number two.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. He never walked them all the way out. Then it dawned on you that he wanted to have another private conversation with them when you were not around.

You slumped on the couch, tucking your foot beneath you as you grumbled in frustration.

“Aye, you good?” Fontaine asked as he took his eyes off the tv screen to glance over at you.

“I’m good,” you lied as you turned to look at him. “You ready for bed?”

“You gon’ let me sleep here?” he asked, surprise clear in his voice.

“Well, duh Fontaine,” you huffed. “Unless you got some other friends in Memphis that I don’t know about?”

What did he think? That you were going to toss his ass out with nowhere to go?

“I don’t think yo boyfriend gon’ be cool with that.”

“I don’t give a fuck what the other you has to say at the moment,” you sneered, “do you want to stay here or not?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then it’s settled,” you dismissed..

“Can we finish the movie first? This one is my favorite,” he nodded towards the tv.

“Sure.”

Fontaine wandered back into the apartment about fifteen minutes later, scoffing at the two of you laughing on the couch.

“And where is this nigga stayin’, Y/N?” he blurted, attitude rancid as fuck.

“Here with us,” you said brightly, stating the obvious. The credits began to roll so you grabbed the remote to turn off the tv.

“Oh, hell nah,” he complained as he rolled his eyes at the both of you. “Why he gotta stay here with us?”

“Where else is he supposed to stay? With Slick and Yo-Yo?” You folded your arms against your chest, kissing your teeth in annoyance. Fontaine number one and Fontaine number two were going to have to get along sooner or later. This hostility shit between them wasn’t going to fly.

“He can stay at—“

“—Just let him stay, baby,” you interrupted, throwing up your hands as you stood up from the couch.

What was the goddamn problem? It made sense that everybody should stick together. Maybe only to you.

“Aight, fine,” he grunted, stomping off into the kitchen.

“Dramatic ass nigga,” Fontaine number two mumbled under his breath as he stood up too.

You shook your head at him in amusement, fighting back a giggle. This situation was so bizarre that you had to take it lightly or else you'd lose your fucking mind. He shrugged at you and scooped up his bags. You motioned for him to follow you into the guest room down the hall.

You helped him with unpacking and began hanging his clothes in the closet. You chuckled to yourself since his wardrobe was identical to your Fontaine's. The two men were obviously quite the same, but there were one or two physical variances that you chose to keep to yourself.

“Why you bein’ so nice to me?” he blurted, taking a small step towards you.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you replied, eyes narrowing as you leaned back against one of the closet doors.

He took another step towards you, pausing to look you up and down before fixing his gaze on your face.

“I ain’t him, you know?”

But you kind of are, you thought.

“You think I’m only bein’ nice to you because you share the same face as my boyfriend?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders.

You sighed deeply and looked out the window, gaze focusing on the shining full moon. "I'm bein’ nice to you because you're a human being who's been through a lot of unfair shit." You turned your attention back to him, eyes locking with his. "I think a little kindness is the least you deserve, don't you?"

He didn't respond, taken aback by your kind words, and after several seconds of stillness, he nodded his head so slowly you'd have missed it if you hadn't already been staring at him.

Of course, this Fontaine had trust issues as well. You couldn’t really blame him. He was keeping it together much better than you would have been in his shoes.

“Alright,” you sighed, taking one last look around the room before smiling softly at him, “anything else you need before I go to bed?”

“Yeah,” he nodded as he plopped down on the bed, “can I get my gun back?”

Hmm, you thought. You didn’t see why not. Slick Charles was gone and the situation seemed diffused for the time being.

As you approached him, you carefully removed the weapon from your waistband, holding it in your palm.

You held out your hand to him, and he reached out to take it, but you pulled it closer to your chest and said, “As long as you promise to keep it away unless our lives are in danger.”

“Aight.” he agreed, reaching for the gun again, but you tightened your grip on the steel.

“I’m serious, Fontaine.”

He rose slowly, towering over you while peering down into your eyes. You took a much-needed step back since you could hear every breath he took and smell the sweet tang of his cologne.

The corners of his mouth turned up in a sly smirk as you took a step back from him. He cleared his throat and gave you a look, indicating that he was being serious.

“I promise,” he whispered, reaching for the firearm for a third time and this time you let him take it.

After ensuring that Fontaine number two was settled in, you closed his bedroom door and shuffled around the apartment, switching off all the lights and checking that the entrance and windows were locked.

You entered the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend and gently closed the door behind you. Fontaine was already in bed, pretending to be sleeping.

“So, what? You gonna pretend like today ain’t happen?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest in annoyance.

“Y/N,” Fontaine groaned, pulling a pillow over his head to drown out your voice.

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me, ‘Taine! We have to discuss this,” you walked over to your dresser and began to undress, pulling a drawer open to grab a set of pajamas.

“I ain’t in the mood to talk about this shit, aight?”

“Were you ever goin’ to tell me about all this wild shit that happened to you?”

He tightened his grip on the pillow, pressing it down even further over his head, ignoring you.

You tossed your clothes in the hamper and finished buttoning your pajama blouse before marching over to the bed, flipping back the covers, and snatching the pillow off his head.

“Fontaine!”

“What?!” he fumed, sitting up as he glared at you wildly.

“You can’t ignore this! Not this time. Why didn’t you tell me this happened to you?”

“What was a nigga supposed to say?! Hey baby by the way I was made in a fuckin’ tube,” he scoffed then shook his head.

“Wait, so you think me findin’ out about you bein’ a clone would make me love you any less?” you asked, your frustration dissipating as you noticed the petrified look in his deep brown eyes.

“You don’t get it…”

“Then explain it to me,” you urged.

“Nah. I’m goin’ to sleep,” he said, turning his back to you and settling under the covers.

You weren't sure how much more of this you could take. You were used to Fontaine shutting down amid difficult conversations, which you understood to some degree, but it was becoming painfully obvious to you that he didn't trust you at all. Most likely, he never did. It's unfair to you because you've never given him a reason not to trust you.

What’s a relationship without trust?

You switched off the lamp on your bedside table, let out a deep breath, and slid beneath the covers. It took some time, but Fontaine's soft snores eventually lulled you to sleep.

#ugh these are so fun to write!!#they cloned tyrone fanfiction #they cloned tyrone fic #they cloned tyrone fanfic #they cloned tyrone #fontaine #fontaine x reader #fontaine x black reader #black reader insert #black writer #my fics #tct mf

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lounesdarbois · 6 months ago

Text

Gustave Doré dessine les ouvriers de Londres

Les commentaires les plus profonds sur l'Angleterre sont l'œuvre de Français. Jules Vallès, Céline, Morand, Hippolyte Taine et bien d'autres ont compris ce pays et ses mœurs comme si c'étaient les leurs. Nul n'est prophète en son pays. Le grand peintre figuratif de l'ère victorienne est le français James Tissot, mais c'est Gustave Doré qui demeure avec son album de 1872 London a pilgrimage, le principal sociologue par le dessin de l'envers du décor d'une société au sommet de son empire sur le monde.

Tout français qui assume sa sensibilité d'artiste, une fois introduit dans les centres décisifs de Londres est un enfant dans un magasin de jouets. Pour visualiser ce qu'était cette ville en 1872 il faut d'abord imaginer son fleuve large comme quatre fois la Seine. Une eau verte et grise battue par les vents, vaste comme la mer. Sur cette étendue avancent à pleines voiles des bateaux de toutes tailles, dans toutes les directions, penchés sur l'eau par la force du vent, des myriades de bateaux qui vont chacun leur chemin, et d'autres amarrés par grappes ensemble ça et là au hasard, immobiles avec leurs gréements nus, chaque rive garnie de colonnes de navires au mouillage alignés par dizaines comme des voitures au péage. Si bien qu'en levant le regard sur ce paysage dantesque ce sont des centaines de bateaux qui apparaissent, et qui deviennent des milliers de bateaux jusqu'à l'horizon.

Et sur chaque rive de ce fleuve s'étend une ville, et dans cette ville voici une population de travailleurs qui circule, qui entre et sort des bâtiments, une colonie humaine innombrable qui fourmille sous tous costumes, uniformes, fardeaux, qui est là dans les rues bondées, dans les étages, par les fenêtres, sur les quais, sur les bateaux. Partout la vie, le travail, l'avenir.

De 1560 à 1960, quatre siècles ont nourri Londres la chétive, à la petite cuillère. Cette cuillère fut l'arrivage continuel des navires coloniaux chargés de marchandises, régime qui fortifia un corps entier, développant les muscles l'un après l'autre. Les quais. Les hangars. Une Venise rationalisée. La ville était creusée de rues aquatiques garnies d'installations inventées pour fluidifier le trafic des bateaux : débarcadères douaniers, entrepôts étanches, péniches grutières, corderies, leviers sur pivot hydraulique, tourelles de mâtage, guichets d'examen d'échantillons, stations de pesage, zones de tri, wagonnets de transbordement. Des quais longs comme des routes, les hangars les plus hauts jamais vus, des murailles de 10 mètres pour empêcher les voleurs d'attenter au trésor de l'Angleterre. Et pour servir ces équipements était la foule immense des travailleurs prolétaires de tous âges, avec leur famille.

Peu d'hommes ont ce don du témoignage exact. Pascal l'avait pour la condition humaine, Doré pour les sociétés vivantes. Ses illustrations de Dante et des Fables sont connues. Son art culmine dans son Pèlerinage à Londres au moment où cette ville était le premier port du monde, le convecteur de millions de tonnes de marchandises par jour. C'est cette accumulation du capital par l'accumulation de marchandise qui engendra en ce même endroit à la fois Rotschild et Marx, le keynésianisme et Mosley, Charles Darwin et John Wesley, les Lords du commerce et les cockneys manutentionnaires. Tous les contraires, toutes les dualités radicales se sont forgées ici sans pourtant se heurter jamais. Extériorisant sur le continent ses contradictions comme un corps fiévreux sue pour guérir, l'Angleterre n'était plus la proie d'aucun trouble interne majeur depuis Cromwell, deux siècles auparavant.

Le cœur du monde bat calmement. Cette scène de déjeuner à Epsom, improvisé sur les calèches arrêtées au milieu des foules allant et venant, le rappelle. Chaque visage y est comme la nuance amusante et spéciale d'un type physique général. Amusantes jeunes femmes tête couverte dans leur chale de laine, gracieux attelages, chevaux comme des cygnes à l'encolure courbée. Mais pour qu'une seule de ces dames en leur maison georgienne capitonnée de tapisseries afghanes, puisse prendre son thé indien dans une tasse Wedgwood, il a fallu que se lèvent aux aurores des milliers d'ouvriers, de porteurs, de sherpas, de soldats, de matelots. Des hommes payés pour trouver, acheminer, façonner, sécuriser, entreposer. Doré rend justice à ces hommes.

Observez ces portefaix qui ploient sous leur fardeau. Il s'agit de ballots de thé du Sri-Lanka, de sacs de sucre de Jamaïque, de rouleaux de tapis d'Iran, de caissons de marmelades d'Égypte, de piles de peaux de bêtes du Canada, de tonneaux de vin cuit du Portugal, de mille articles nouveaux dont la nouvelle bourgeoisie raffole. D'autres navires arrivent chaque jour d'Australie, de Fidji, de Singapour. Ces hommes en vident les cales puis les chargent à nouveau de laine, de gin, de houblon avant que ces cargos reprennent la mer vers l'Inde, la Chine, la Tanzanie.

Londres est une grande roue et ce rude prolétariat est attelé à ses rayons. La rotation continue qu'ils impriment projette le surplus au dehors et attire les nutriments à l'intérieur, force giratoire véloce en son pourtour et tranquille en son centre. Le cœur du monde bat son rythme.

Londres serait restée une banale cité-pirate comme l'ont été Tyr, Nhatrang, Alger ou Istanbul à certaines époques, si elle n'avait pris le parti de retravailler les matières premières obtenues à l'étranger en des produits manufacturés à vendre. En cela Amsterdam avait précédé Londres dans le grand idéal colonial d'une ville européenne à la fois enracinée dans son monde propre et irriguée de ce que le monde alentour offre de meilleur (l'exact contraire d'aujourd'hui). Idéal assez fort pour partir fonder outre-mer d'autres Londres: Singapour, Hongkong, Sydney.

Ces hommes se laissent pousser la barbe et rasent la moustache, précepte religieux observé encore de nos jours par les Amish et les Salafi.

Et ce manutentionnaire de troisième étage de hangar de Millwall, arc-bouté sur son palan à 12 mètres au-dessus du sol, pour l'attirer dans la chambre de stockage, n'est-il pas là, présent devant nous? Gustave Doré a su voir l'extraordinaire dans l'ordinaire de son époque.

Doré dessine non pas la foule dépareillée, bordéleuse et rapace que nous coudoyons de nos jours mais un peuple au travail. Un peuple physique, religieux, pauvre, heureux, un peuple chantant, varié, et blanc (albe, albinos, "Albion"). L'Angleterre est la synthèse de l'Europe, l'estuaire de la Tamise a tamisé les hommes du continent venus remonter son courant, et ce fleuve est le déduit filtrant du continent dont il n'a gardé que le suc, d'où cette grammaire simplifiée qui est la partie visible, audible, de soubassements plus profonds.

Londres est le pèlerinage continuel des européens initié par le peuple français dès 1066, et quelque ennemi que l'on puisse être de ses Whigs, des cruelles manœuvres de son Foreign Office, de l'Intelligence Service activateur de guerres, de ses Churchill bouffis et autres donneurs d'ordre par téléphone, un Français peut regarder Londres comme une partie de lui-même enfuie ailleurs il y a longtemps. L'expatriation ressemble parfois au remembrement, ou au souvenir (to remember).

Les professeurs gauchistes nous ont rebattu les oreilles avec la notion d'exploitation du travailleur. Le style crayonné et grisaillant de Doré semble parfois forcer le trait en ce sens. Pourtant sommes-nous mieux ou moins biens lotis que ces bougres dessinés par Gustave Doré? Il a dépeint tout ce dont nous manquons aujourd'hui. Un peuple autour de soi, nombreux, cohérent. Du travail assuré. Dix enfants par foyer. Le mouvement, l'entraide, l'action concrète sur les choses. Gustave Doré montre la vie vivante comme nous ne l'avons jamais vue. Elle a existé. Autant d'éléments impensables en nos temps d'abstraction et de dépeuplement qui n'en finissent plus. Rappelons que depuis 30 ans un Français peut à peine trouver du travail dans son propre pays, ou se marier avec une femme de chez lui, ou enfanter, ou acheter un foyer décent. Les rues sont vides, les villages morts, les gens éteints, et pour chaque Français qui se tient bien dix hyènes venues de l'enfer convoitent son pain, son travail, sa maison, sa femme, sa voiture, son argent.

Revoyons la richesse objective des travailleurs pauvres de 1872, cent fois plus substantielle que notre fausse monnaie actuelle. Richesse d'enfants nombreux, abondance d'avenir meilleur, profusion de chansons de marins et de territoire à soi, ressources de bon sens paysan et de religion stable. Le moindre immeuble accueillait dix familles blondes autour d'un feu sous une marmite suspendue. Un simple manutentionnaire avait un logement comprenant sous-sol, étage et grenier, il était père de sept enfants et la vie portait tout cela. À bien y regarder, la pauvreté d'hier est un luxe aujourd'hui. Ces prolétaires logeaient en plein centre-ville dans des maisons individuelles avec jardinet. On les voit manger des huîtres chaque jour, le plat du pauvre. Ils circulent en confiance dans des rues à eux. Ces joies devenues payantes sont aujourd'hui des privilèges de millionnaires.

Dieu a voulu des inégalités, pas des injustices. Gustave Doré montre en 1872 une société très inégalitaire et assez juste. La société actuelle est à la fois égalitaire et injuste. Que le tout-venant s'installe chez vous à égalité avec vous comporte une note d'obscènité en plus du degré d'extrême injustice. Le pouvoir le sait, le veut. Tout est là.

Pour accomplir un travail très physique la classe ouvrière se sélectionnait elle-même dans la partie la plus saine du peuple. Elle avait l'éthique du travail bien fini, la fierté de sa maîtrise physique, technique, d'outils de production d'importance vitale pour la survie commune. L'Angleterre a tôt choyé ce précieux capital humain: maisons individuelles, viande abondante, premiers systèmes d'entraide mutuelle pour les accidentés. Il y eut un Proudhon anglais un peu plus tardif que le nôtre, ce fut William Morris.

Que reste-t-il de ce peuple ouvrier aujourd'hui ? Il reste la Culture. Tout d'abord leurs clubs de football, montés à partir de 1868. West Ham United pour les ouvriers des forges et l'emblème des deux marteaux croisés, Millwall Football Club pour les manutentionnaires des docks de Millwall, Arsenal FC pour les fondeurs de canons etc. Tout le mouvement skinhead, l'esthétique Fred Perry, Ben Sherman, butcher coat, gingham shirt, et avant eux les Black Shirts, les Teddy boys, les Mods, et tant de chansons, tout cela provient de l'héritage ouvrier d'une période légendaire. Londres est la seule ville connue où le prolétariat fut producteur d'une Culture. C'est un fruit involontaire et magnifique d'une Monarchie chrétienne donné aux pauvres: la stabilité. Au contraire la république soi-disant française, avec ses neuf révolutions et guerres par siècle a sadiquement forcé l'extinction d'un peuple notoirement plus beau que l'anglais.

Le Romantisme, grande passion française, est un mouvement étrange qui active chez l'artiste la nostalgie d'une époque qu'il n'a pas connu. En célébrant l'Angleterre Gustave Doré chante en réalité la France et elle seule, les notes de ce qu'elle aurait pu être, les accords encore muets de ses potentiels sous cloche. Quand nous passons la Manche pour voir dans les stades soixante mille gaillards chanter des airs anciens debouts les bras en croix nous n'avons d'émotion que pour notre pays à nous. C'est de moi que je parle. J'ai la nostalgie de Montorgueil Sport contre Louvre-FC, de Villette Abattoir contre AS-Vincennes, et du tournoi des quinze clubs franciliens remporté par les Flèches Noires de Paris devant cent mille Dupont-Dubois qui chantaient dans les graves "Rien de rien, non je ne regrette rien". Nostalgie de ce qui n'a pas été porte en soi le monde à venir qui veut être.

Si Gustave Doré a le mieux dessiné Londres c'est qu'il faut être extérieur à l'objet pour le bien voir. De la même façon, c'est un étranger, l'anglophone David Crosby qui a le mieux chanté notre Carillon de Vendôme, mélodie du Moyen-Age, complainte émue des villages restés fidèles au royaume de France envahi, réduit à portion congrue. Que reste-t-il à ce Dauphin si gentil? Orléans, Beaugency, Notre Dame de Cléry, Vendôme, Vendôme. Elle ferait une très belle chanson de stade, en canon, dans les graves.

youtube

#Gustave Doré #Londres #London #Youtube

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misstergrayson · 9 months ago

Text

DC Character Birthdays

The dates in parentheses are for when the character has multiple canon birthdays. I’ll keep editing as it’s not done.

January

3: Jim Corrigan

5: Jim Gordon

7: Sandra Knight

8: Queen Hippolyte

16: Wally West (November 11)

17: Kent Nelson

26: Kate Kane (March 21), Cassandra Cain

27: Al Pratt

29: Arthur Curry

31: Mera Curry

February

5: Tasmia Malor

8: Tenzil Kem

9: Rex Mason

10: Greg Sanders

11: Rokk Krinn

18: Eobard Thawne

19: Bruce Wayne (March 30, April 7, April 25, May 27, October 7)

20: Hal Jordan

21: Jo Nah

24: Dirk Morgna

26: Atlanna

29: Clark Kent, Billy Batson (December 23)

March

6: Garth of Shayeris, Dick Grayson (March 20, March 21, October 24, November 11, December 1)

8: Zatara

11: Lee Travis

12: Perry White

13: Mick Rory

14: Selina Kyle, Barry Allen (March 19, May 13)

19: Barry Allen (March 14, May 13)

20: Dick Grayson (March 6, March 21, October 24, November 11, December 1)

21: Kate Kane (January 26), Dick Grayson (March 6, March 20, October 24, November 11, December 1)

22: Diana Prince

23: James Jesse

24: Lydda Jath

27: Lar Gand

28: Happy Terrill

30: Katar Hol, Bruce Wayne (February 19, April 7, April 25, May 27, October 7)

31: Arthur Curry jr., Alfred Pennyworth (April 8, August 16)

April

3: Jay Garrick

4: Darell Dane

5: Chuck Taine

6: Brainiac

7: Bruce Wayne (January 19, March 30, April 25, May 27, October 7)

8: Alfred Pennyworth (March 31, August 16)

9: Sargon

10: Dinah Lance

11: Linda Danvers

19: Samuel Scudder

21: Tanya Wazzo

25: Bruce Wayne (January 19, March 30, April 7, May 27, October 7)

26: Donna Troy

28: Uncle Dudley

May

3: Maxwell Jensen

5: Condo Arlik

7: Freddy Freeman

8: Jack Ryder

13: Barry Allen (March 14, March 19)

18: Charles Mcnider

19: Digger Harkness

20: Zatanna Zatara

21: Beautia Savana

25: other Diana Prince

26: Ralph Dibny

27: Bruce Wayne (January 19, March 30, April 7, April 25, October 7)

June

1:Carter Hall

3: Salu Digby

4: Mark Mardon

19: Shayera

22: Thomas Peterson

27: Terry McGinnis (August 10, August 18)

July

2: Tawky Tawny

7: Johnny Thunder

9: Ray Palmer

10: Drake Burroughs

17: Lana Lang

19: Tim Drake

20: Al Desmond

21: Staq Maylen

25: Lucy Lane

26: Oswald Cobblepot

August

1: Joker

6: Kid Eternity

7: Morgan Edge

9: Damian Wayne

10: Terry McGinnis (June 27, August 18)

13: Duke Thomas

15: Ral Benem

16: Ira West, Alfred Pennyworth (March 31, April 8), Jason Todd

17: Lois Lane

18: Wing, Terry McGinnis (June 27, August 10)

20: Jan Arrah

21: Shiera Sanders

September

1: Pa Kent

10: Reep Daggle

11: Roy Raymond

12: Ted Grant, Jefferson Pierce

13: Thaddeus Savana Jr

18: Val Armorr

22: Kara Zor-El

23: Barbara Gordon

26: Sandy Hawkins

27: Iris West

28: Lex Luthor

October

2: Alan Scott (October 13)

5: Luornu Durgo

7: Bruce Wayne (February 19, March 30, April 7, April 25, May 27)

13: Alan Scott (October 2)

17: John Stewart

19: Magnificus Sivana

20: Terry Sloane

22: Thom Kallor

24: Dick Grayson (March 6, March 20, March 21, November 11, December 1)

26: Lois Barnett

28: Blackhawk

30: Dexter Miles

November

1: Roy Harper

3: Wesley Dodds

5: Rex Tyler

6: Boston Brand

7: Martha Kent

10: Garth Ranzz, Ayla Ranzz

11: Dick Grayson (March 6, March 20, March 21, October 24, December 1), Wally West (January 16)

15: Richard Grey jr

16: Johnathan Crane

19: Lyle Norg

21: Kamandi

22: Abra Kadabra

23: Imra Ardeen

29: Jimmy Olsen

30: Dag Wentim

December

1: Dick Grayson (March 6, March 20, March 21, October 24, November 11)

3: Adam Strange

5: Dr. Mind

7: Harvey Dent

8: Nura Nal

9: Oliver Queen

11: Len Snart

13: Sylvester Pemberton

14: Ulu Vakk

16: Leena Thorul

18: Ted Knight

19: Princess Projectra

22: Brek Bannin

23: Mary Batson, Billy Batson (February 29)

27: Sir Justin

29: Georgia Sivana

30: Qeurl Dox

#dc comics

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notasfilosoficas · 1 year ago

Text

“El deber mas alto del hombre es proteger a los animales de la crueldad”

Emile Zola

Émile Édouard Charles Antoine Zola fue un escritor francés, nacido en París en abril de 1840, y un novelista, periodista, y dramaturgo considerado el padre y el mayor representante del llamado naturalismo literario y un contribuyente importante al desarrollo del naturalismo teatral.

Fue hijo de un ingeniero veneciano naturalizado y de la francesa Émile Aubert.

Tras la muerte temprana del padre, se trasladó a Aix-en-Provence sufriendo penalidades económicas.

Tuvo como compañero de estudios al pintor francés posimpresionista Paul Cézanne con quien mantendría una larga y fraternal amistad.

Émile regresa a París y tras abandonar el bachillerato decide trabajar como dependiente en una librería para evitar seguir siendo una carga para su madre en 1862.

Escribió su primer texto y colaboró en las columnas literarias de varios diarios, cultivando al mismo tiempo la amistad con personalidades como Édouard Manet, Camille Pissarro y los hermanos Gouncort escritores franceses pertenecientes a la corriente naturalista.

En 1868 concibió un proyecto denominado “Les Rougon-Macquart” y cuya aspiración era la de realizar una novela “fisiológica” en las que intentaba aplicar algunas de las teorías del filósofo, crítico e historiador Taine uno de los principales teóricos del naturalismo, y de Claude Bernard, teórico, médico y fisiólogo francés sobre la herencia.

La obra, consta de 20 novelas y se inicia con “La fortuna de los Rougon” en 1871, el cual refleja un retrato social que siguiendo el esquema del naturalismo, contiene altas dosis de violencia y dramatismo, y demasiado explícito en sus descripciones para la época.

Entre las novelas mas destacadas de este proyecto destacan, La taberna en 1876, “Naná” en 1880, “El paraíso de las damas” en 1883, “Germinal” en 1865 y “bestia Humana” en 1890 y “El Desastre” en 1892.

También son obras clave de su escritura la trilogía “Tres ciudades” y los cuatro evangelios” en 1898 y 1902 respectivamente.

En el año de 1870 se casa con una costurera con la que no tuvo hijos. Sin embargo tuvo una amante quien le dió dos hijos.

En 1890 se rechazó su entrada en la Academia Francesa y en 1894 la Santa Sede decretó la inclusión de toda su obra en el Indice de los libros prohibidos.

Cuando Alfred Dreyfus fue acusado injustamente de espionaje a favor de Alemania, Zola surgió en defensa del militar judío escribiendo el famoso artículo “Yo, acuso” el cual fue publicado el 13 de enero de 1898 y que sirvió para que se reabriera el caso judicial.

La publicación de este artículo le llevó a prisión durante un año, huyendo el autor francés a Inglaterra. Finalmente, tanto Zola como Dreyfus fueron declarados inocentes

Émile Zola falleció en París el 29 de septiembre de 1902, a causa de una intoxicación provocada por la inhalación de gases provenientes de una chimenea a la edad de 62 años.

Fuentes: Wikipedia, alohacriticon.com, biografiasyvidas.com

#emile zola #francia #citas de escritores #frases de reflexion #frases de escritores #escritores #frases de novelistas #novelistas

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vampirevatican · 2 years ago

Text

so let's talk...

they cloned tyrone (spoilers and all)

SUBLIMINAL MESSAGES

"it's in the water", "straighter is greater", "i got that ruckus", "got damn! fried chicken", "grape juice", the shot of an old american dream like poster, depicting a white man, til it pans out to the ghetto.

the movie hints to it's audience from the start that this? this shit runs deep. yeah everyone is carrying on like normal, so does the movie, and no one bats an eye until it's deliberately pointed out. for me it says a lot that i can only convey or remind folks with in the way fontaine treats junebug in the first half.

hood niggas don't wanna be hood niggas.

and that right there is exactly fontaine. not only to just the brother he lost, but extended to junebug, yo yo, charles, his momma. sure he a product of his environment but he ain't got much of a choice and that's depicted when he does everything he can to get to the bottom of what the fuck is going on up 'til he literally loses control.

EXISTENTIAL CRISIS

seeing another you. loosing complete autonomy while being conscious of it.

what slick and 'taine saw? enough to make any human question the fabric of their reality, if they're real, if their memories are really theirs, how much can they recall in those memories and if they are recalling everything. when slick saw fontaine again and when fontaine first faced his previous body. 'taine's drive was figuring out if he's really him. hell as he was grappling with the chaos that it brings in his mind, what does he say when he finally snaps out of it?

im me.

as humans our lives, decisions, etc. come from some peace of mind that we have autonomy. the fact that we can say and do as we please, even if it's within a boundary, is enough for us to feel some kind of calmness in the thought that we have power over ourselves. can't control the world around me, can't do big shit, but i can do this. the little things.

all i could think was, 'but what if there's another you.. an original you.' and when his autonomy was put into question, him backing off like that and accepting it is a form of nihilistic defeat. he can't do shit but what he's always done, and if that means he or anyone else he loves doesn't die? then it's something he deals with, until it's too much to bear.. until the cycle of everyday (that he now knows is a cycle) weighs heavy and the only thing to pull him out of it? junebug. the good memories of his brother.

THE CLONES AND TIME

i had this originally titled and future, but the point here is the original/old fontaine and his plan.

i feel that old fontaine made that deal not just because of ronnie, or the decayed blood he has to wipe up, i feel like that's part of the defeatist mindset he has. he decided the "can't beat em, join em" route was better. that assimilating to what white folks have wanted since fucking eugenics was better, even if it's not he reasons that joining is better than just dying out.

"assimilation is better than annihilation."

ofc, our fontaine, doesn't believe any of that bullshit. that the whole operation is fucked. old fontaine says that it's something they both know but i agree and disagree... they both know that's what white america wants. for old fontaine if that's enough to not have another incident like ronnie? good enough but our fontaine?? he's got junebug he's thinking about, other little kids in the here and now, the dreams that yo yo had and still has, everyone in the hood who wants out but just can't seem to get out.

CONTROL GROUPS

"tyrone... ain't that you?"

now i didn't grow up in the hood,or rather the projects, but i was near it. small knit group, everyone knows each other more or less.

the drug dealer, the pimp, the pastor, the kids, the aunties/grandmas/mamas/misses.

in the black community we all know someone like that or have heard of them, and the end of the movie shows this. it's more than just a call back and a chance to play a hit by miss badu.

these regulars? they're the control group the second in command was talking about. they're the ones that don't quite get the same treatment as the experimental group (i.e yo yo, biddy, junebug etc.) they're key players to making the ecosystem (experiment/operation) run smoothly. which is why the convo of fontaine deciding to go with slick and yo yo is integral to the ending and vice versa.

to break the cycle, the system? everyone's gotta rally together. country wide. (in movie context ofc)

#.⁠｡⁠*⁠chitchat💭━♡#they cloned tyrone #they cloned tyrone spoilers #okay im done. im off the soap box.

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ratsala · 8 months ago

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I'm a little bit angry that throwing a tomato at someone is a chargeable offense. I'm sad it is against the law. Because, I would love to throw a tomato at All Caps-Tain Kangaroo. Not to hurt him, mind, just to see his shocked and embarrassed face covered in fruit juice. Maybe not just one tomato, bunches of them. Ok, probably not just once, but like, A LOT. Everywhere he goes.

They used to do this. Toss tomatoes when actors in stage plays performed badly. When people didn't live up to expectations. When they weren't welcome. Votes are still being counted and Quid Pro Combover probably didn't even win the popular vote. Again. Even people who actually voted for Count Flatula are already having buyers remorse. Most of the country doesn't want Orange Baby Jesus.

Dopey McGropey shows up for a speech? His shirt is covered in tomato seeds before he says a word. Donald Duck-the-Draft is having an interview on Fox News? Quick get makeup to help wash the pulp out of his hair. Vladimir Gluten is about to meet the king? You'll have to excuse his tardiness, Charles. He's having a quick bath and a change.

Sure, it could get creative. I'm not above freedom of expression. Keep things interesting! A "Home Alone" style Bucket of ketchup above the door to Trumpelstiltskin's golden bathroom? Squeezing tomato paste in Dictator Tot's shoes? Maybe a remote deployment of suit-soaking, rotten tomatoes just as Scammy Davis Jr. signs some horrible executive order? Maroon 45 is in the situation room? Turn that place into a Tomatina Festival.

The press coverage would be epic. The photos would haunt HippoPOTUS the rest of his days. And, even if I were to do it only once and probably get tackled by Secret Service before going to prison, you just know that Presidementia would be afraid the rest of his life. Never knowing when the next tomato would hit. Where he would be. How much of his bronzer that'd wash off. The seeds he'd still find in his lapels weeks later.

And the laughing. I dream of that most. The tacit fear of His Flatulency would dissipate as slow-motion, fruit splattering replays took rise. And, we'd all just laugh at him. Tannibal Lecter would gain so many HILARIOUS new nick names that I can't even begin to fathom. Stuff about antioxidants, lycopene and vitamin C that I'm just not funny enough to conceive.

But, yeah. It's illegal and I'd rather not go to jail.

#donald trump #american politics #tomatoes #drumpf #orange turd #lycopene #vitamin c #maladaptive daydreaming #Jimmy Kimmel #Kimmel made up the nicknames #Wish I could have lived in Harris' America

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star-trek-likes-vs-dislikes · 1 month ago

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The polls for "Luther" Sloan and Charles Evans finished with 46.8% and 36.5% respectively, kicking Anaphasic Lifeform/Ronin and Enabran Tain off the list.

Tumblr's top 10 most strongly disliked Star Trek characters

10. "The Female Changeling"

With a "Strongly Dislike" percentage of 36.2%

9. Charles Evans

With a "Strongly Dislike" percentage of 36.5%

8. Kai Winn Adami

With a "Strongly Dislike" percentage of 38.6%

7. Commander Bruce Maddox

With a "Strongly Dislike" percentage of 41.2%

6. Gul Dukat

With a "Strongly Dislike" percentage of 41.3%

5. Doctor Mora Pol

With a "Strongly Dislike" percentage of 41.9%

4. "Luther" Sloan

With a "Strongly Dislike" percentage of 46.8%

3. Armus

With a "Strongly Dislike" percentage of 48.7%

2. Khan Noonien Singh (AOS)

With a "Strongly Dislike" percentage of 51.3%

1. "Anjohl Tennan"

With a "Strongly Dislike" percentage of 63.1%

_______

These are based on only the "Strongly Dislike" percentage. Summing the Strongly Dislike and Dislike columns of my spreadsheet naturally gives different results. It is likely that these results will change, but I will keep the post up to date.

Most Strongly Liked List

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projazznet · 7 months ago

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Wynton Marsalis – Wynton Marsalis

Wynton Marsalis is the debut album by the jazz trumpeter Wynton Marsalis. It was released in 1982 by Columbia. Wynton Marsalis – trumpet Branford Marsalis – tenor and soprano saxophones (tracks 1-5, 7) Herbie Hancock – piano (tracks 3, 5, 6) Kenny Kirkland – piano (tracks 1, 2, 7) Ron Carter – double bass (tracks 3-6) Charles Fambrough – double bass (track 7) Clarence Seay – double bass (tracks 1-2) Tony Williams – drums (tracks 3-6) Jeff “Tain” Watts – drums (tracks 1-2, 7)

#wyntonmarsalis #trumpet #jazz trumpet #postbop #modaljazz #projazz #projazznet

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hpmoon · 1 year ago

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youtube

This is a tribute to the famous meme by composer and trombonist Alex Heitlinger, who strung out 41 clips of musicians playing the same "lick," crowd-sourced by an online community. While the 2011 video celebrates each performer's individuality full-screen, this presentation accumulates them into a visual chorus: keeping faithful to each clip as originally seen and heard, but emphasizing their plurality in a timeless music motif.

I remastered the source clips into higher resolution, with artifacts cleaned and colors graded, just to compensate for imbalance in the original lo-fi media. The 41 remastered clips populate sequentially into a 15-panel matrix at the 4K resolution presented here. Some years ago, Alex reported a partial list of his original sources (not in order of appearance): John Coltrane, Branford Marsalis, Herbie Hancock, Keith Jarrett, Freddie Hubbard, Danilo Perez, JJ Johnson, Robin Eubanks, Igor Stravinsky, Dave Brubeck, Sam Rivers, Eric Alexander, Lee Konitz, Pat Metheny, Michael Brecker, Charles Mingus, Deangelo, Tia Fuller, Snarky Puppy, Rick Margitza, Donald Harrison, Jeff Tain Watts, Esperanza Spaulding, Chick Corea, Player, Beyonce, Sheena Easton, Pancho Sanchez, and Dexter Gordon.

#Youtube

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marscomet · 2 years ago

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charles was boutta shit his drawls when he saw it was taine at the door instead of yo yo BAHHAHAHA 😭

"fontaine where the hell you been at man..? i've been lookin' for yo black ass all over the universe"

#they so funny #i love all the dynamics already

0 notes

if-you-fan-a-fire · 2 years ago

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"London Robbery Victim Trails Former Pals Here," Border Cities Star. June 6, 1933. Page 5 & 16. ---- Thugs Beat Up His Wife ---- Took His Life Savings Of $1,500 and Fled To Border ---- Revenge Sought ---- Taxi Ride to East Windsor Is Clue; May Lead To Detroit --- Vowing vengeance on the two former friends who yesterday stole his life savings, after savagely beating his wife, Alex. Tichonchuk, of London, Ont., reached Walkerville early this afternoon and left at once for East Windsor. He said he believed that at 1037 Albert street he could pick up clues which would put him on the trail of the robbers.

TWO SUSPECTS The two suspects, whom he has known for three years, are John Neyare, 35, and Joseph Kozuboski, 33.Mrs. Tichonchuk is in Victoria Hospital at London, suffering chiefly from shock. Head and neck wounds she sustained when beaten into agreement to reveal the hiding place of Tichonchuk's $1,500, which he had just withdrawn from a bank to buy a small farm, are not considered serious.

POSTS REWARD Tichonchuk gave further impetus to the hunt this afternoon by announcing that he would pay a $300 reward for the capture of the men and the return of his money. IN DETROIT? As search for the London bandits was maintained in Windsor and East Windsor today, police inclined to the belief that the wanted men have slipped across the river to Detroit. CAME HERE IN TAXI Acting on information received yesterday that the two thugs came here as taxi passengers, Detective-Sergeant Campbell and Detective Maxwell, withthe aid of East Windsor police, main-tained a night-long investigation. Re-turning to London the taxi-driver re-ported delivering two passengers to Windsor. Failing to remember the address, he described the street as one having car tracks and provision for motor vehicle traffic on only one side.

From this description police were led to believe that Seminole street, in East Windsor, was the thoroughfare where the bandits had been taken. A thorough check failed of results.

As soon as the message from London was received here, all Border police departments were notified and customs and immigration officers at all regular points of exit were requested to be on their guard.

GONE OVER RIVER? It is thought, however, that a pair of desperate characters bold enough to dash for the Border in a hired vehicle would not spend much time here, but immediately charter some craft to convey them across the river.

TO EAST WINDSOR Murray Haines, 22-year-old cabdriver for the La Salle Taxi Company, and former London policeman, returned to London last evening and reported to police that he had taken the two fugitives from the city to East Windsor yesterday afternoon.

He was not aware that he had carried the two suspects in the daring daylight robbery until he checked into his office after the trip, Haines declared.

The wanted men are John Neyare, 35, of 5 Webb street, and Joseph Ko-zuboski, 33, of Inkerman street.They were friends of the Tichonchuk family, and detectives charge that they paid a friendly visit to the home, and finding the housewife alone, beat her into semi-consciousness, and escaped with $1,500 from a bedroom hiding place.

PAINFULLY BEATEN Mrs. Tichonchuk lies in Victoria Hospital, London, suffering from shock and from severe head and neck wounds the result of the beating she received from the yeggs. A number of teeth were loosened by blows on the mouth. She was attended in Victoria Hospital by Dr. H. Murray Simpson, and her condition is not considered serious.

As the robbers fled from the house, the woman dragged herself to the front porch and called for help. Her cries were answered by Peter Sawa and Charles Howard, neighbors, who rendered first aid, and had her removed to hospital.

The taxi driver related to The Star last night the role he played in the getaway from London.

DRIVER'S STORY "I answered a call to the Matxh grocery store at Hill and William street," he said. "Two foreigners were waiting, and they climbed into the car. They said they wanted to go to Windsor. I was a little surprised, as we don't get such trips very often. But when I told them the price would be $20, one of them pulled a roll of bills from his pocket and paid me the money.

"I heard the men speaking in Russian on the trip to the Border, but I didn't pay much attention to them. They told me to hurry, but they didn't seem very much excited until I pulled up at a gas station a couple of times. However, I wasn't suspicious of them, as they said they wanted to visit a sick relative in Windsor, and couldn't wait for a train.

"I traveled on No. 2 highway, and when I reached the Border Cities, they instructed me about the streets on which to turn, I didn't know the district very well, but as far as I know, I let them off in East Windsor."

DINED IN WINDSOR After dropping his fares, Haines drove to Sandwich street, he said to The Star. He recalls crossing the bridge near the Walkerville ferry, and going directly into Windsor, where he stopped for lunch at the Plaza Cafe on Pitt street. After spending an hour or so in Windsor, he returned to London.

Haines description of his fares tallies with those of the two men seen to run away from the Webb street home, a few minutes after the robbery, according to police.

Detective Earl Knight and two constables scoured the district in a police car shorty after the attack on the defenseless woman, but by that time the robbers were on the way to the Border.

The money taken by the raiders represented six years' savings of Mr. Tichonchuk, who emigrated from Russia to Canada. He drew the cash from a local bank on Saturday, to pay hospital and doctors' bills, and to make a down payment on a small farm on which he intended to settle.

The husband was at work in a downtown factory yesterday morning, and had no knowledge of the robbery until informed by detectives. His only child, Alex, Jr., was at classes in Aberdeen school.

Members of another family who resided in the cottage were away at the time.

THREATENED WITH DEATH Mrs. Tichonchuk was trussed up by the robbers and threatened with death, when she refused to disclose the hiding place of her husband's cash. The marauders carried her to an attic, and then threw her down the stairs. They also pushed her down a stairs into the cellar, and then proceeded to ransack the residence.

After upsetting bureau drawers and upsetting beds and furniture, the robbers finally located the money in a bedroom.

The suspects had been working on railway section gangs, but have not been employed in recent months, it is stated. They have resided in London about three years.

FARMER ROBBED LONDON, Ont., June 6. - Two robbers, one a burly man of 50, and the other about 30 years old, slim and sickly-looking, trussed and robbed James Rae, a man of 60, in his home on the Second Concession of West-minster last night at 10.30. The robbers got about $50 in cash and made their escape, although Provincial Officer Lemkin was on the scene a short time after they drove away.

Provincial police say the description of the robbers does not tally with that of the Russians who yesterday beat up and robbed Mrs. Alex Tichonchuk of $1,500 in her home on Webb street, but the methods of the men are strangely similar.

According to the story Rae told Inspector Hamar Gardner of the Provincial Police, two men came to his place, a small farm, a week ago to buy hay. They looked at a stack, seemed satisfied and said they would be back that night. They did not return then, however.

KNOCKED DOWN Last night Rae had retired when two men knocked at the door, one of them being the spokesman for the hay buyers of a week ago. He asked to be shown the stack again. Rae unsuspectingly took a flashlight and was walking toward the stack when the big man struck him a heavy blow and knocked him down. The robbers then roped and tied him and took about $8 from his pockets and a gold-filled watch.

They demanded if he had any more money and finally forced him back into his house where they were met by Mrs. Weir, Rae's housekeeper, who had been aroused by the scuffle.

LOCK UP WOMAN The bandits then threw Rae on the floor, tying him more securely, and they locked the woman in a room. After a search they found $37 belonging to Rae and took $1 of the money the housekeeper had in her possession. When they had left the house, Mrs. Weir escaped from the room and released Rae, who informed the police.

SHOWN above are photographs of the scene and principals in the London assault and robbery of Mrs. Alex Tichonchuk, whose assailants are being sought in the Border Cities. The upper picture shows the Tichonchuk home on Webb street. On the lower left are Mr. and Mrs. Tichonchuk. Third from theleft is Murray Haines, 22-year-old taxi driver who brought the robbers to Windsor and gave police their first clue as to whereabouts of the thugs. At the extreme right is Mrs. Mary Bikow, a neighbor, who heard Mrs. Tichonchuk's screams and came to her aid, with George Howard and his son, Charles, who are shown in the insets.

#london ontario #windsor #wanted fugitives #notorious criminals #beaten and robbed #assault and robbery #home invasion #forced confession #great depression in canada #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada #walkerville #russian canadians #love thy neighbor #russian immigration to canada #life savings

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cosmicgoods · 2 years ago

Photo

8 Vol Book Estate Ornate/Embossed/Gilded THE LIBRARY OF CHOICE LITERATURE 1882

Antique 1882

Victorian

Beatiful embossed hardcovers

Gilded pages edges

Gilded Covers

Volumes 1-8 (The complete set!).

Each book is approximately 9.5" T x 6.5" W and approximatley 1.5" inches thick. The entire set takes up 11" of shelf width.

If you want some bling on your shelf this is it!

I package well and ship out daily!

Silas Marner's Treasure

Verses

Paradise and the Peri

Grapes or Thorns.

The Dying Wife to her Husband and Childre

Love's Devotion

The Prison of La Force in 1889

Citizens Returning from the Country

Letter from Scarron in the Next World

Evil Speaking.

Public and Private Life.

Industry

The Objectors to Scientific Inquir

Freedom of Inquiry

Mary's Dream.

The Song of the Shirt

Intellectual Athens.

Baxter's Judgment of his Writings.

Fruits of Experience of Human Chorncter

Personal Traits of George Il. and Queen Caroline

Is the Planet Jupiter Inhabited?

Hymn of the Alamo.

Dr. Aberford and his Prescription

New Haven Fisherwoman

The Showman's Courtship.

The Gothic Steed.

Crocodile Shooting on the Nile

The Greek Mother

The Kelp Gatherer

Reflection at Sea.

Nubian Revenge

Petticoat Government.

Death of Goethe .

Meeting with Livingstone at Ujiji

Dangers and Difficulties of the Congo Exploration

A Sail on the Lualaba

" Reflections."

The Marquise

Burial Anthem

On a Sprig of Heath

The Discontented Pendulum

Stanzas to an Old Friend Lines Written in Sickness

The Wine-Cellar .

Ode to a Nightingale Glorified Spirits . •

Human Development.

The Prophetio Language

George Eliot

Princess Amelie

Thomas Moore

Alice Cary

Propertius

Albius Tbullus

Eugene Sue..

. Andrew Jackson Dounin

Tom Brown

John Selden

John Ray

. Bishop Berkeley.

Prof. Thos. Huzhey.

Prof. John Timulalt

• John Lowe.

Thomas Hood.

Cardinal Neuman

Richard Baxter

Richard Barter

Lord Hervey

Sir David Brewster

R. M. Potter

Charles Reade.

Charles Farrar Brown

R. II. Newell.

Eliot Warburton

Henry G. Bel Gerald Grifin.

Thomas Moore

Eliot Warburton

Mary Eliz. Braddon George II. Lewes Henry MI. Stanley Henry M. Stanley Henry M. Stanley La Rochefoucauld George Sand Henry Hart iriman' Mrs. Anne Grant Jane l'aylor

Thomas Doubleday

Thomas Campbell

Charles Lamb

• John Keats

William Rathbone Greg

Isaac Newton

The Study of Nature Recommended

All Things not made for Man

Inoculation for Small-Pox

Against Excessive Grief

The Customs Cordon

Two Roman Legends

To the Man-of-War Bird

Trencher Friends

The Golden Ago

The Shepherds' Golden Age

The Philosophers Stone

The Choirg

Precepts of Life.

The Sacrifice of Polyxena

A Skeptic's Illustration

Marlowe's "Faustus."

The Waterloo of Hannibal

The German Fatherland

The Right of Property

To the Sea

Literature in Gaul from the Sixth to the Eighth Century

A Serious. Symptom of Bibliomania The School-Boy's Dream Children Evelyn Hope Death

Ode to God

Last Hours of Louis XIV

The Newcastle Apothecary

Corinne at the Capitol.

Death of the Nightingale

The Forehead in Greek Ar

Marco Bozzaris

A Forgotten Hero.

The Coral Grove.

Napoleon at St. Helena

The Three Great Ties of Human

The Sandpiper.

Taine on Milton

John Wesley's Old Age, Poor Jack

Sir Roger de Coverley's Wooing

The Long-Ago

Silvia.

Chanet

Pan's Song of Syrinx

Autumn Leaves

My Fare.

Hymn to Adversity.

Painting and Painters.

The Consolations of the Mus

A Jocular Baronet

Value of Affliction

The Dying Husband's Farewel

The English Language.

The Butterfly and the Snail

Peace

The Jester's Sermon.

The Tower of London.

John Ray

Lady Mary Wortley Montag

Sir

William Temple.

• Anton Alez. von Avereper

Henry George Liddel

Walt Whitman

Theognis..

Thomas Brydson

William Browne.

. Sir Richard Steele

. Friedrich Gottlieb Klonste

• Baruch Spinoza

Euripides

Denis Diderot.

Christopher Marloue.

Theodor Mommsen.

. Ernst Morits Arndt

Jeremy Bentham

Count of Stolberg.

François P. Guillaume Guizol

Thomas Frognall Dibdin

Charles Tennyson

Turner

Richard H. Dang

Robert Browning

Jeremy Taylor

Gabriel Romanovich Derzhaven

88228898

Duke of Saint-Simon

George Coleman, the Younger

Madam De Stad,

Ludwig H. C. Hölty

Johann Joachin Winckelmann.

Fits-Greene Hallec:

James Anthony Froude

James Percival

Marquis de Las Casas

Jean Baptiste Massillon

Celia Thaster

Tippolyte Adolphe Taine

• John Wesley

Charles Dibdin 100

wir Richard Steele

101

Lord Houghton 101

Shakspeare.

104

J. W. De Forest

104

• John Lajly

105

• John Keble

114

George Mannville Fenn

115

Thomas Gray

115

John Ruskin

118

George Withers

118

Tobias Smollett

120

Oliver Goldsmith

Phineas Fletcher

Joseph Addison

• John Gay

126

128

George Walter Thornbury

William Hepworth Dixon

127

128

CONTESTS.

phe Wearet and his Shadow.

[Remember.

taco Hartlebury's Roman.

Auld Robin Gray

Letters.

Deerslayer

Ay Lady.

the Wearyful Woman Bpigram.

the Singing Lenves

Alcander And Septiming

Piss and Poets septimissenteenth Contir:

Barren Faith

Homo

the Rooks Returning to their Nost:

Cat Adopting Young Squirrols

Night Habits of Poultry

Sighs for Rest.

Scarron's Description of Himseis

The Bivoune of the Dead

The Battle of Mount Vesuvius

The Choice of a Wife

Precedence

Torna Doone

Rods and Kisses

The Wooer

Stray Thoughts

The Seed and Fruit

Daniel 0'Rourke

There's not a Joy the World Can Give

The Masquerade

Work.

The Songstress

Lesbia on her Sparrow

Two Scenes from the Civil

Sir Giles Overreach

Aged Lovers

Burns in Dumfries Majesty in Misery

Last Days of Queen Elizabet

Day by Day .

To Doctor Marchessaux

An Exotic .

Devonshire Cottages and Gardens

The Dream

An Echo

The Hall of Bblis

Hymn to the Crentor

Valentine's Day

Life's Cares

Pepys at the Play Since to My Lips

Jonathan Moudiwor

A Character

Grandma's Team

Among the Trees

Fortune

An Eastern Scene

Toasta

John Gall

. Samuel Johnson

Oliver Goldamil

William Sawyer

. John Crosfard Wa

Gilbert White

. Gilbert White.

Brald Chridias ton

. Paul Scarron.

Theodore O Haro . Thomas Araol.

W'm. Cecil, Lond Barkis . Horativa Bonar

Rich. Doddridge Black Coventry Patmare.

Joanna Baillie.

Jean Parl F. Richle

Lads Kingsley.

I. Crofion Croker

Lord Byron Mrs. Holand.

Alice Cary.

, Wm. Cartsright

• S. P. R. James:

Philip Mazinger

. Stalapeare:.

William McDowal

Charles I,

Incy Ailin.

. Mra. Neton Chosla , Jean Baptiste Alalous Henry Timrod Edward Jewe

• Noralis

John James Pialt . William Beckford.

Sir Richard Blackmon

. Charks Lamb.

• Matthew Prior.

Samuel Pepys.

• Vielor Ilugo

Alcrander Bellene.

•Charkes Charehil

Louisa May Alcott..

William Cillen Bryant

Robert Southwell.

William Fillarion Annin

Seuvral Authors

Pray Employ Major Nam!

Colin's Complaint

Novel Writers.

Human Greatness

The Gypsy's Story

True Benuty

The Baviad

The Enchantment

Too Handsome for.

Love's Horoscope

The Mountain Torren

Absence

An Ode

Why Stirs My Heart

Struggle for Life

A Description of Am

Gonius Loci

A Letter

Bartholomew Fair

The Flowers of May

The Country Boor

Wishos of Youth

A Corsican Chief.

The Lady's Looking-Glass

Lord Chesterfield and Lord Chatham

The Return of Spring

The True Greatness of a Nation

Omens

Sonnets

Personal Manners of Napoleon I.

Friar Thomas and his Reforming Crusad

Hermann and Dorothea

Night Teacheth Knowledge

Guesses at Truth

A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea

A Prayer

Gil Blas and the Robbers

To Mary in Heaven

The Utility of Friendship

Toujours Amour

Shaking Hands

The Mother's Alarm

¡Samuel Foote, the Humouris The Shepherds' Wooing The Red House Cleone to Aspasia The Comic Blackstone

Marius as Described by Plutarc Horace.

Seneca on a Happy Life

The Use of Riches

The History of Socrates

Epigrams of Martial

Ignez de Castro

Canzonet

Stanzas

256

Cancao

On the Death of Catharina de Attavdo

Lives of Alcibiades and Aristides

Luis de Camoens

Inis de Camoens Cornelius Nepos.

Edipus the King .

From the Antigone

Fables

Third Philippic

Hymn to God

Prometheus Bound

Etiquette at the Court of Uganda

Funeral Oration on Henrietta Maria

State of Belief at the Advent of Chris

Fenelon Concerning Eloquence

Sorrow and Gladness

The Passion for Wealth or Glory

Queen Victoria's First Days of Sovereignty

The Rose. . .

Some " Characters

In Absenco

Education and Exercises of the Homer

Plumbing « By the Hour

Shared .

The Character of Louis si

Pre-Existence

Venetian Love-Making and Marrying

On a Beautiful Day

On a Painting of Venus by Apelles

Man's Destination

Dr. Schliemann's Courtship.

Hospitality

The Closing Year

On a Declamatory Pleader

Prinassus Taken by Stratagem

A Terse Speech

The Island

The Death of Garfeld

Before and After the Rain Marrying for the Sake of a Dog

The Vow

Prehistorio rides

The «Praise of Foily

Home, Sweet Home Mountains and their Orizin The Nightingale.

Methods of Accounting for Language

Florence Vane

How the Popes Acquired Temporal Power

Dream of the Noon-Tide.

You Can't Catch the Wind in a Net.

Without and Within

Forgiveness.

Arago's Presentation to Napoleon

Study of the Heavens.

The Old Onken Bucket

Aphorisms

How the Emperor of Tartary goes a-Hunting

Dawn..

Causes of the Downfali of Rome

Content.

The French and Anglo-Saxon Races Compared

Realization Essential to Pity.

Sophoctes

Sophocles

•Phedrus

Demosthenes

Jacob Bellamy

AEschylus

Captain J. Hi. Speke.

Jacques Bénigne Bossuet

. Joseph Ernest Renan

• François de la Mothe Fénelon

Thomas Kingo

Jear de la Fontaine

. Charles Greville

Isaac Watts

Jean de La Bruère

Phobe Cary.

Count de Volney

Leonides of Tarentum

Charles Dudley Warner

Incy Lareom

Plilip de Comines.

• Parl Hamilton Hayne William D. Ilowells

John Sterling.

Leonidas of

Tarentum

John Gottlieb Fichte

Heinrich Schliemann

Onestes.

George D. Prentice

Lucillius

Polybius

• Sir N. W. Wraxall

Richard Henry Dana

James G. Blaine

Thomas Bailey Aldrich Joseph X. B. Saintine

Meleager

Thomas Bell.

• Desiderius Erasmus

John Howard Payne Louis J. R. Agassiz

Gil Vicente

John Horne Tooke.

Philip Pendleton Cooke

Archbishop James Gibbons, Rose Terry Cooke.

Rev. Charles H. Spurgeon Metastasio Saadi

• Dominique Francois Arago

Mary Somerville

. Samuel Woodworth

. Boileau

. Baron de Montesqui

• Robert Greene

W. E. H. Lecky

Mozart's " Zauberflöte

"Three Loves."

Follies of Fashion

Envy.

Lament for Bion

The Seven Wise Men of Greece

Nature as a Great Theatre

Excess of Happiness over Miser:

The Caucasian Race

Sayings of Terence

Traditions of the Creation

She is not Fair to Outward Vier

The Love of Country

The Shandon Bells

Painting and Sculpture

Discovery of a Colossal Sculpture.

Why Equality is Commonly Preferred to Liberty First View of the Supposed Source of the Nile .

Tolerance.

From the Zend-Avesta

An Old Bachelor's Regret

Aphorisms

Berthold Auerbach

• Lucy I. Hooper

. Nicholas Malebranch, Bernard Mandeville Moschus

Bernard ie Bovier de Ponien

William Paley

Baron Cuvier

Publis Terentiva Afer

• John William Dauson

379

Hartley Coleridge

Bernardin de Saint Pierre

319

• Father Prout.

Fred. Wm. Joseph son Scheling. Est

Austin Henry Layard.

James Bruce.

Martin Farguhar Tupper

Pliny the Elder

https://www.etsy.com/listing/1488165358

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